Path of the Frenzied
by The Elemental Shark
Summary: AU. One spared life changes another and another.
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer:** Tales of Symphonia and anything associated with it is not mine. I'm not that smart.

* * *

**Path of the Frenzied**

"Excuse me? I'm looking for my aunt Flora." Sixteen-year-old Emil Castagnier bit his lip nervously. He wanted to be back in Palmacosta with Ingrid and her family, not on the other side of the continent to talk to relatives he hardly knew. Mom and Aunt Flora had never bothered to keep in contact when his parents were alive, so why bother now?

But Ingrid's father had insisted. Even after the attack on Palmacosta he could afford it: through the turmoil of the past few years the Volls had suffered relatively little bad fortune. Not that it meant too much when half of Palmacosta was gone, but Emil had regarded the family with a mixture of jealousy and awe for over a year because they seemed to have all the luck he didn't. Ingrid still had family, a great one willing to take Emil in after the Blood Purge; Emil only had an aunt and uncle left.

His mother's parents had perished when Luin was destroyed. His father's father had died of disease when Emil was four, and his other grandmother had been lost to the Great Kharlan Tree's rampage. And now Mom and Dad…Emil averted his eyes towards the items in the shop, trying to tear his mind away from Lloyd Irving's cold voice and the image of his parents' bodies on the ground, burned into his memory.

"Flora's nephew, eh?" The shopkeeper gave Emil a suspicious once-over. "I heard of you. They say you're big trouble. A Vanguard sympathizer."

"What? Me?" What had Aunt Flora been saying? She didn't know anything about him.

"Yeah, you. Still trying to spread all your hate of Lloyd Irving, aren't you?"

Still? Emil had just gotten here, and he hadn't said anything about Lloyd—though he wouldn't disagree with the idea that he hated Lloyd. A fist clenched at his side, out of view, as he fought to shove the memories away again. "I think you're confusing me for someone else, mister."

"Emil or something, isn't it? That won't work here, kid. Go back to Flora's place." The shopkeeper pointed outside and Emil left after deciding that trying to argue was not the better option.

Emil finally reached his aunt's house after two more conversations and several insults to him and his intelligence (was everyone in Luin this abusive?) and knocked on the door. The woman who answered resembled Mom enough: petite, brunette, and a little squinty-eyed, though she had a sour expression that Emil had rarely seen on his mother. The dark-haired man with the mustache could have been Uncle Alba. Emil guessed he'd found the right place, so he took a second to ready himself and plunged in. "Aunt Flora? It's me, Emil. Lana and Reysol's son."

"Emil? What do you mean?" The woman demanded. "You're not Emil. Frankly, I'm not sure why you'd _want_ to be him."

"Of course I'm Emil! I'm…" Emil hesitated, not understanding all of what Flora meant, but continued. "Hey, I'm here for the day and then I'm going back to Palmacosta. I'm not dumping myself on you and Uncle Alba. I'm only here to tell you about Mom!"

Aunt Flora's voice was stiff and her words minced. "Lana's dead. I know. But if this is your idea of a joke, it's not funny at all and it isn't convincing, either. Emil's right here." She turned to a room adjacent to the one they stood in and raised her voice. "Emil! Get out here, now!"

Head bowed, a miserable-looking boy of about Emil's age trudged into the room, avoiding meeting either Emil's or Aunt Flora's eyes directly. He was a good five inches taller than Emil, but he managed to make a pretty pathetic picture as he stared at the floor. "I'm Emil Castagnier." The boy raised his head and glared at Emil for somebody whose demeanor had screamed "I want to go back inside and hide" until a second ago. "Who are you, and why are you using Mom like that?" he demanded.

"I don't know who you are, but _I'm_ Emil," Emil insisted, giving the boy a hard stare in return. "I should be asking you that!"

"Liar!"

"Quiet!" Uncle Alba spoke up; his voice cut into them harshly, and both boys flinched. "One of you must be lying. _At least_ one of you. For all we know Emil died in Palmacosta with Lana and both of you are trying to take advantage of their deaths."

"But I'd never do that!" Emil protested. "Even if I weren't me! There are better things to do than to pretend to be somebody you're not. There are people taking in the refugees from Palmacosta, like the Lezareno Company! I have no idea why somebody would ever pretend to be another person like that, but I have better things to do!" He shot a glower at the other boy, who scowled in return.

"Well, that at least makes sense," Uncle Alba said to Aunt Flora with a pointed look at both boys. "Honestly, Emil—if he is Emil—has been nothing but trouble, going around and telling everybody Lloyd Irving killed Lana and Reysol. People are beginning to say he's a Vanguard sympathizer!"

"What? But that's actually true!" Emil balled his hands into fists at the memory with a growl. "Lloyd Irving really did kill Mom and Dad. I saw him with my own eyes! And there are plenty of others in Palmacosta who went through the same thing."

"_Enough!"_ Uncle Alba looked about ready to kill at this point, Emil thought with a gulp. Uncle Alba pointed outside, reminding Emil of the shopkeeper he'd first asked directions from. "Both of you. Out. now. If either of you is the real Emil, come back when you can prove to us that you're not some kind of twisted imposter and you've learned to _watch your mouth._ Not until then!"

And with nervous backward glances and a slammed door, the two Emils were effectively kicked out.

"I hope Mr. Voll's happy," Emil muttered as they walked into the street. "Hey, what're—" He glanced at the other Emil and cut himself off, seeing that the boy seemed downcast and his expression was thoroughly lost. Either he was a good actor, or Emil had just managed to boot a confused kid out of his current equivalent of a home.

"You really think you're Emil Castagnier, don't you?" he asked the boy, hearing a soft sympathy in his voice that surprised himself. "You believe Aunt Flora and Uncle Alba are really your aunt and uncle, and Lana and Reysol Castagnier are your parents."

"Y-you too." The words had no fight in them: the boy's former air of timidness had returned, and twofold now that Uncle Alba had banished them. "How is it that you and I believe we're the same person? We don't even look the same!" He had a point. Aside from the height difference, the other Emil had green eyes instead of Emil's blue and his hair was a more golden color than Emil's dirty blond. The best resemblance was in their less-than-stellar appearances, as Emil's were dusty and mussed after a few days' travel and the other Emil's clothes, while clean, seemed a little too loose on him.

Noting the dejection on the boy's face, Emil tried to envision things as he imagined them from the other way around. The idea that he himself might not be Emil Castagnier and instead some deluded kid who'd been uprooted from his life was not one he liked. Trying to consider it deeply started him questioning his own memories. If he returned to Palmacosta, would Ingrid be there or would she turn out to be a product of his imagination?

Suddenly anxious to return to Palmacosta, Emil eyed the other Emil again and sighed. He couldn't bring himself to leave the guy here. Even if he still had a place to go, he probably _had_ been in Palmacosta, so somebody might figure out who the "fake" really was. And if he was just crazy, then he needed help anyway.

"Come on," Emil told him. "I'm going back to Palmacosta. There's room for one more." He decided not to mention yet that there he'd prove that he was the real Emil. It didn't feel right, and the other was shaken enough already. Pressing him any more would probably make him bolt like a deer.

"Are you sure? I thought…" Doubt flickered in the other's eyes.

"Would you rather stay here?" Emil gestured to the town around them. That did the trick: the other Emil accepted.

Ander, Ingrid's older brother, was waiting for them at the main entrance to Luin. When Emil tried to explain the situation in private and insisting on bringing him (not following through on his offer felt too much like breaking a promise for Emil's comfort), Ander sighed and threw up his hands, frowning as he ran one hand impatiently through dark hair. "If you're telling the truth and he's from Palmacosta, fine. Dad would kill me if I left him here. But _you're_ the one who's gonna explain this one to him, not me."

"Fine," Emil agreed, and the look on the other Emil's face as they left Luin behind them was worth it.

* * *

It was a day east of Hakonesia Peak that they came across the girl.

"It's you!"

The girl planted herself in front of Other-Emil (as Emil had taken to thinking of him), watching him carefully without any apparent regard for the fact that she'd just intruded on three travelers who didn't recognize her at all as if she belonged with them.

Ander was less than impressed with her. "Friend of yours?"

"I-I don't think so." Other-Emil didn't take his eyes off the girl, though whether it was out of fear or fascination Emil couldn't tell. His posture said he was startled, even scared, but there was something in the way he regarded the girl that made Emil think twice. Could he really know this girl somehow?

Whether or not Other-Emil did, the girl seemed convinced. "You don't remember me?" she asked.

"No. I'm sorry." The boy hung his head. "Are you sure I'm the right person?"

The girl smiled, and Emil saw sincere admiration written all over her face. "I'd never forget the one who saved me."

That hadn't been the answer any of them had expected. "Save you? Him? From what?" Ander demanded.

"Never mind." The girl shook her head, breaking her gaze away. "I guess it was more memorable for me. A lot did happen that night." The mention of "that night" tugged at Emil, but she continued, "Hey, what's your name, anyway? I'm Marta."

"Um…" Both Emils exchanged glances. "Emil," he said, shrinking a little. "For now."

"For now?"

Emil took pity on him and interrupted as smoothly as he could. "It's nothing. You don't need to know the details. Come on, we have to check in. Let's go."

Of course, he'd forgotten that if she was at the same inn they were, logically she was staying there as well. That evening after dinner found Marta sitting next to Emil on his bed in their room while Ander was out, having been explained the details of their time in Luin after asking for Emil's name too.

"That must be tough," she mused, watching the other Emil. "Not being sure of who you are like that." She was quiet for a moment as Other-Emil tried to will himself invisible before her face lit up again. "But I'm sure you're that boy I met! Whoever you are, you're also him and I'll always love you for that."

Marta leaned over from her seat on the edge of Emil's bed and gave the other Emil a tight hug. Emil had to fight a snicker despite himself. One afternoon and she was already smitten. Was there any way to stop a force like that? For his part Other-Emil got flustered easily, and though his expression said he objected to Marta's displays of affections he didn't speak up about it much. Emil grinned. Girl troubles. Boy, was he glad he didn't have to deal with any of those.

Taking pity on the boy, Emil continued, "We're on our way back to Palmacosta. It shouldn't be much longer until we get there."

"Palmacosta?" Marta let go of the other Emil (to his relief) and turned her attention back at Emil, clearly bothered by something.

Aha, Emil thought. I was right. "Hey, Marta," he said, trying to sound casual. "When you mention him saving you, you mean Palmacosta, don't you? Two months ago?"

"Yes. I've been traveling around ever since that night. You're going back to Palmacosta?" Marta seemed conflicted, glancing to the side for a moment as if there were something interesting in the air, before she nodded and turned back with a smile. "If you don't mind, could I go with you?"

Emil had guessed this would come up. "As long as he and Ander don't have any complaints, I don't see why it should be a problem?" He glanced at the other Emil, who hesitated before nodding timidly.

"Really? Great! Oh, I'm so glad I met you!" Once more she clamped onto Other-Emil and this time Emil left the poor boy to his fate. Hey, at least he'd tried.

* * *

They reached Palmacosta four days after meeting Marta, after a few attempts to get Marta to ride the carriage they traveled in (each time demonstrating that yes, she did indeed get motion sickness) and many more halfhearted complaints from Ander about the pace of their journey and the tagalongs they'd acquired since Luin. Ingrid was waiting at the Volls' when they arrived, and when she saw the group they had her mouth twitched. "You don't have any long-lost cousins you forgot to mention, do you?" she asked.

Emil took a long second to just stare at her and make sure that she was who he remembered—after so much time on the road, he could see clear a resemblance with Ander in their dark hair and gray eyes, both atypical of most native Palmacosta residents, as well as their height; at sixteen Ingrid was seven years older than her brother, but at five-foot-eight she stood at only a few inches shorter than him.

Then, processing her question, he grimaced. If only she knew. "I wish it were that simple," he muttered to her.

"I'll bring these guys to Mrs. Dorr in the Governor-General's office," Ingrid's father volunteered. "You two have fun catching up!" As they left Emil sank into a sofa in the living room with a grateful sigh, drinking in the sight of the off-white walls he'd grown accustomed to in the past two months. This was familiar.

Ingrid plopped down beside him, crossing one leg over the other. "Long trip?"

"Worse than that." He began his account of what had happened in Luin and their encounter with Marta. He paused when he was done with that before adding, "Hey, Ingrid?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm me, right? Emil Castagnier? The real one?" He lowered his head—the notion had bothered him for the past week, nibbling at his mood whenever he looked at the other boy who claimed to be Emil Castagnier. When he raised it again Ingrid was giving him one of those stares that made him feel as if he'd gone and done something fantastically stupid.

"Is that what you were upset about? Come on, don't you ever use your brain? If you weren't the Emil Castagnier I grew up with I wouldn't be talking with you like this. And you had Ander along all that time, so you could have asked him if you were that worried!"

Sharp as ever, her words managed to make Emil feel better while dramatically increasing that feeling he'd been an idiot at the same time. "You're right." He laughed weakly. "I guess it was pretty dumb of me to wonder if _I_ could be the…"

_Fake._

Emil swore under his breath and smacked his forehead. That hadn't been the only time he'd been fantastically stupid.

"Emil?"

"Do you know when your dad will be back?"

"No, why?"

"Because I need to find the other Emil, the one who thinks he's me!"

He'd never talked with Other-Emil about resolving their little identity problem here, and for all he was withdrawn the other didn't appear to have thought much of it before they got here. The times he had spoken of what worried him, it was usually over Aunt Flora and Uncle Alba in Luin or some imagined offense he'd committed against Emil or Ander.

So if Emil had doubted his own identity until coming home to the people who knew him, what was it like for the one coming home to find out his entire life was fake?

Mr. Voll didn't return with Marta and the other Emil two hours after dinner. "We've been invited back tomorrow," he told them. "Mrs. Dorr is no expert, but she believes our new guest might have suffered some kind of trauma, physical or otherwise, two months ago. And it just so happens that the president of the Lezareno Company will be paying a visit tomorrow to see how things are going in Palmacosta for himself, so she hopes he may be able to find some way to help him. We're taking him and Marta in at Mrs. Dorr's request, at least for the time being. Ingrid, Emil, the two of you don't mind sharing your rooms for a short while, do you?"

Neither raised any objections, and soon after that Other-Emil excused himself to retire to bed early. Emil followed suit about ten minutes later, worn out by the day and wondering just what he was going to say to his new roommate. To his surprise he could hear voices from inside the room as he approached, and out of curiosity he put his ear to the door and listened.

"Emil?" That was Marta. "Remember what I said when we first met? I meant it, honestly. I don't care if you're not who you think you are. You're still who _I_ think you are." Silence. "Emil?"

Listening intently, Emil could hear a soft "Thanks, Marta." The words were half-hearted at best, and more silence passed before he spoke up again. "I think maybe I should find something else for people to call me. I-if I'm not Emil Castagnier…"

"Are you sure about that? No one would mind, especially right now."

"I don't know. I still feel like I'm Emil and this is all a bad dream. But that's not true, and I've already caused so much trouble. For the real Emil and Ander and the Volls, and the governor's wife, and for the both of you, too. I'm sorry." (Emil pressed his ear closer to the door at that, ignoring his pricks of guilt for the moment. "Both"?) "So if I do this, maybe it will make up a little for what I've done."

"Do you have a name yet, then?"

"Um…"

"If you are so set on renaming yourself, may I propose a name?" Emil gave a start: the speaker wasn't one he had heard before, and certainly not in this house.

"What is it, Tenebrae?"

"Odin. It was the name of someone who appealed to Lord Ratatosk thousands of years ago long before the worlds were split in two, before the shortage of mana became truly evident. He was not successful, but you might say he might one day almost be a predecessor of yours."

"Not successful?" Marta demanded. "What are you saying, Tenebrae?"

"Oh, nothing grim. Lord Ratatosk simply was not interested in sharing his power and allowing others to call upon him at whim when there was no clear need of it. Of course, the present situation is quite different." There was a hint of reproach in the strange voice, though over what Emil couldn't tell.

"Odin…" The boy's voice trailed off thoughtfully. "I guess that works. I'll tell everyone tomorrow, in the morning."

Their conversation was pretty much done at this point, Emil figured, so he stepped back and knocked. He could hear some muffled movements inside before Marta opened the door. "Oh, hi Emil! What are you doing here?"

"Going to bed. I'm exhausted." Emil decided to pretend that it wasn't strange to find girls coming out of his room when the only other inhabitant was supposed to be sleeping. It was easier on both of them. "What about you?"

"Me too. Well, good night, Emil! Sweet dreams!" Marta hurried out and away, and relieved that was over with Emil headed inside. Other-Emil—Odin—sat there watching him from under the covers in a set of slightly worn secondhand pajamas the Volls had gotten somewhere. The third voice he'd heard was nowhere to be found.

"Have fun talking?"

"What? Oh. Yeah." The other boy said nothing as Emil turned off the light, but as Emil climbed into the bed (big enough for two, luckily for them both) he said, "I decided on a different name for myself. Since I'm not you or anything."

Emil could tell he was going to be playing innocent for a while. "What do you mean?"

"It's weird having people talk to me because you think they're talking to you, right? Since now we know you're the real Emil Castagnier, it's not right that I keep using that name. So Tene—I mean, Marta and I decided on a new name I could use. Odin."

In a flash Emil realized how he could start making it up to this kid. "Odin, huh? You didn't need to do that, but as long as you are do you have a last name to go with that?"

"Not yet."

"Why don't you use my name—our name? Castagnier?"

"What?" The other fidgeted, fighting to sit up.

"Hey, hey, no need to get all excited! I'm not offering you a fortune in Gald or anything. But I bet all this is harder on you than you let on, right? The least I can do to help is give you a way to make sure the world doesn't turn completely upside-down. You can be the brother I never had or something." Pulling the covers further over himself, he murmured, "Now that Mom and Dad are gone, it's just Aunt Flora and Uncle Alba, and the two of us. And Ingrid's family, since they sort of adopted me after the Blood Purge."

"Thank you." Emil smiled to himself. At least he'd managed to achieve _something._

"No problem."

"And, um, Emil?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you tell me more about Mom and Dad…about our parents?"

"Sure." Emil yawned, reminding him that aside from having that talk, he'd also come to get some sleep. "But leave it for tomorrow. I'm ready to sleep like a log."

"Okay. Good night."

"Night, Odin."


	2. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer:** Tales of Symphonia and anything associated with it is not mine. I'm not that smart.

* * *

"_It could very well be that he's one of the people we have listed as missing, suffering through some kind of trauma that's affected his memory. He might not even be from Palmacosta. I know most if not all the people living here, and we do get travelers and merchants here from time to time."_

Odin tried not to appear too nervous as he wandered around the eastern side of Palmacosta, noting that the scenery felt familiar but the people only vaguely. Mrs. Dorr's words from the previous day still weighed heavily on him. What kind of amnesia could give someone false memories of someone else's entire life? The name "Odin" was starting to sink in after a morning of use and he was starting to get used to responding to the name, but it hadn't yet managed to reach his core. He was still Emil Castagnier-renamed-Odin to himself.

Hopefully he would get to hear more when they went to meet Mrs. Dorr soon. Odin wondered what the president of a famous company like Lezareno must be like. Tall, probably. Maybe he dressed fancy, and neatly for sure. Did he scorn the Sylvaranti, like other Tethe'allans? But no, if he hated the Sylvaranti then why would he help them? Or was he taking pity on them, and he didn't like them at all in reality? No, if that were true he wouldn't be coming here, would he?

Odin didn't notice the man exiting a shop up ahead until he walked right into his back. "Oh! I'm sorry!" He backed up quickly, thankful there were few people out on the street right now.

His answer was a sharp intake of breath and a muttered "You…"

"Huh?" Odin craned his head to get a better look at the man: long, red hair, green eyes and glasses, black clothing. Odin fought off a gulp as he saw that the man was staring at him. Were those _swords_ he carried? He ducked his head again, hoping to avoid angering the man any more than he already had. "I'm sorry."

"It's nothing. You don't have to apologize." The man started to walk away.

"W-wait!" The man turned around and raised an eyebrow. Odin cringed. He had no idea why he'd cried out like that. Something about the man drew Odin to him, as if he were an old friend. But they didn't know each other, did they?

Mrs. Dorr's words echoed in his mind again, all too fresh.

"Um, do we know each other?" he ventured.

He could see the man hesitating, but the answer was curt. "No."

"B-but…" Odin cut himself off, afraid to bother the other any more. "No. I'm sorry."

"I told you, there's no need to apologize so much."

"Oh. I'm—" Odin hung his head again. That had been stupid. He could feel the man scrutinizing him again, neither of them sure what to do next.

"Courage is the magic that turns dreams into reality."

Odin glanced back up again to find the man slightly startled, as if he couldn't understand what he'd just said. He recovered in a second, though, and explained, "It's something a human with a few screws loose once said. You could probably use some of that."

"Oh." Courage, Odin thought, repeating it in his head. _Courage is the magic that turns dreams into reality._ The words felt powerful, as if with them Odin could conquer anything he wanted without fear.

"What's your name?"

"Odin. Odin Castagnier." He sounded out the name slowly, feeling awkward as he did. He hadn't tried to introduce himself as Emil, but the name still felt somewhat alien to him.

"Well, Odin, would you happen to—"

"Odin! Hey, Odin! There you are!" Before the man could finish, Emil came running over in their direction. "Come on, we have to go _now_ or else we're going to be late! I've been searching through half of Palmacosta to get you!"

Odin promptly remembered that they were due for the meeting with Mrs. Dorr and the president of Lezareno in a very short amount of time. "I-I'm—I have to go!" he stammered to the man (he realized too late that he'd never gotten the man's name) before running off with Emil.

One fleeting look out the corner of his eye told Odin the man was still observing them as they left, and his words resounded again through Odin's mind as they ran for the Governor-General's office.

Mrs. Dorr was waiting there with Mr. Voll and Marta (accompanied by Tenebrae, invisible to all but her and Emil), as well as a tall, well-dressed man with long, blue hair tied loosely in the back who he hadn't seen the day before.

"Emil," Mrs. Dorr introduced, "this is Regal Bryant, president of the Lezareno Company."

"H-hello," Odin greeted the president lamely. "Um, you can just call me Odin now."

"Odin Castagnier," Emil supplied. "For as long as he wants to use it."

"In that case, I'm very pleased to meet you, Odin." Bryant gave him a respectful nod. "Mrs. Dorr tells me that yours is a very strange situation."

"Yes, sir. She said you might be able to help?" Emil couldn't keep the hope out of his voice. Already he could tell he'd been wrong earlier: the president of Lezareno did dress neatly and he was of considerable height, but he had a mellow air about him that told Odin he wasn't the sort of person who would judge him for being a Sylvaranti, maybe even for his lack of a solid identity at the moment.

The president, however, shook his head. "Not at this moment. I've never seen something like this before, so it will be difficult to assess any problems without further knowledge. In addition, I'm afraid that I myself may not be the ideal person to look into your condition. I suppose I could refer you to some of the researchers I'm familiar with, or the university in Sybak, if you're willing to travel and remain under observation for some time. Even then you won't necessarily be able to discover who you truly are, merely understand why your memories are as they are."

"You make it sound like it he's going to be some kind of experiment," Emil noted with a hint of guarded protectiveness.

"No, it's all right!" Odin said quickly, though he didn't find the prospect of being a lab rat particularly pleasant either. "I understand that what's going on with me is strange. If nobody knows what's wrong, there's nothing he _or_ I can do about it. But as long as whatever I have to do isn't harmful in any way, I think I should be okay. It isn't, is it, sir?"

"No, it shouldn't be," Regal answered. "I would never willingly subject anyone to such treatment. And you may call me Regal." He smiled. "Whatever you should choose to do, I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of each other in the future and I believe it's fair. Between friends, if you will."

"Friends?" Odin fell silent, contemplating the word. Before in Luin he'd had no friends to speak of, but since leaving Luin Odin had started to wonder if he could be choked by them someday, between Marta and Tenebrae and now Emil and _the president of Lezareno_.

"Hey, Odin, you sure you're up to this?" Emil was still skeptical, and Odin thought there might be a hint of resentment in his tone. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to. Nobody would blame you for it. You're not even sure if this will work, and it could all be a giant waste of time!"

"Emil!" Mr. Voll reprimanded him. "Remember who's with us."

"Are you referring to me? It's fine," Regal said. "He raises valid concerns. It would be foolish not to consider them. You don't have to say yes, nor do you need to answer me now," he advised Odin. "I intend to stay here for at least another day, so rather than rush and do something you'll regret, consider carefully and give me your decision when you're ready."

"All right," Odin agreed. "And thank you very much…Regal."

* * *

"Odin. You are not considering accepting Regal's proposal, are you?"

By now Odin had gotten used to Tenebrae's appearances, so his materialization at the side of the bed barely fazed him. "This isn't about that Knight of Ratatosk business again, is it?"

"Lady Marta searched for two months to find you in hopes of having you as her Knight. She would be highly disappointed if you were to fail her."

"Marta doesn't want me, she wants her fantasy version of me! I don't even remember saving her two months ago." In his secondhand clothes, sitting in the mostly bare guest room decorated only by a few of Emil's rescued mementoes, Odin couldn't see how he could ever save anybody. He could hardly stand up for himself most of the time.

"What you remember and what Lady Marta remembers are two different things," Tenebrae pointed out. "Need I remind you of the reason why you want to leave in the first place?"

Odin looked down, unable to fault that argument. "I don't even know how to fight, really. I just know how to try and hit things."

"Training can be arranged."

"But what if I mess up? Marta could end up hurt, or worse!"

"And without you to protect her, that fate certainly will befall her on her journey."

"Anybody would be better than me." Odin traced circles on the bed sheets, trying to imagine himself out in the world fighting nameless enemies out to kill Marta and take Ratatosk's core.

He wouldn't stand a chance.

Tenebrae's gaze was full of reproach. "Remember, Odin, Lady Marta has waited all this time in hopes that _you_ would become the Knight of Ratatosk. She wants no one else. But Lady Marta holds you in the highest regard. She will say nothing against you should you disappoint her. Please, Odin, try to have some courage." And with those parting words he disappeared, leaving Odin to his thoughts.

Courage.

The conversation with the red-haired man rose up in his mind, and his words echoed: _Courage is the magic that turns dreams into reality._ The words themselves felt like magic, as if they could transform even Odin into the brave and fearless Knight of Ratatosk he was expecting to be. But what dreams did he have? Odin wanted to find out who he was, but after talking with Tenebrae that didn't feel so much like courage. Maybe it wasn't his own dreams that would become reality, but Marta's? His being a Knight of Ratatosk was her dream, wasn't it?

Odin sighed, almost wishing he were back in Luin. He had no friends there, but at least in Luin everything had been simple.

Someone knocked at the door. "Odin?" Marta called softly. "It's time for dinner."

"Coming," Odin replied. He got up, relieved to have something a little less complicated to do than trying to figure out mysterious sayings from equally mysterious men.

The Volls' kitchen was above average in size—the family, it seemed, was fairly well off—but with a family of four plus three guests crammed together at the dining table, it still felt crowded. Odin remained quiet the entire time, giving minimal replies to any comments or questions posed in his direction. The others didn't press him, probably thinking he was considering whether to accept Regal's offer, which he was in a way.

He had three options, Odin told himself. He could go with Regal and maybe find out who he was, or he could become Marta and Tenebrae's Knight of Ratatosk and accompany them on their journey to collect the Centurions' cores. His last choice was to stay here in Palmacosta and forge a new life for himself as Odin Castagnier, the "adopted" brother of Emil Castagnier.

That last didn't sound like such an option anymore. Odin felt as if he were being tugged simultaneously in two directions, and unless he chose one soon he would be pulled clean in half.

As dinner ended and Emil began clearing up the table, they heard the first beginnings of a commotion outside. Mrs. Voll ordered the rest of them to stay in the house while she investigated, which did little to ease the rest's anxiety.

As they relocated to the living room to wait, the dishes forgotten for the time being, Emil in particular seemed caught between running outside, picking a fight, and breaking out into tears. Ingrid moved in closer to him, and Odin could hear murmurs along the lines of "again," "that night," and "won't die." He made the mistake of glancing at Marta to see her watching him with a mix of distress and hope and expectation that made him want to cringe. He recalled a snippet of a conversation they'd had on the road, discussing the possibility of monster attack: _"Don't worry, I can protect myself. But if I'm ever in danger, you'll save me again, won't you?"_

But as long as they stayed safely inside, nobody would have to be in danger in the first place. The Blood Purge two months ago had already devastated Palmacosta once. It couldn't happen _twice,_ could it?

Mrs. Voll's return confirmed their fears. "It's the Church of Martel," she explained hurriedly. "Soldiers have come to Palmacosta, claiming to be under Lloyd Irving's orders. They're threatening to attack unless we present them with something called 'Ratatosk's core.'" Odin's stomach twisted at that, knowing what would come next. "They're asking for you, Marta."

"No!" Before he knew it, Odin had leapt up, shaking his head vehemently. "You're not going to give them Marta!"

"Of course we won't," Mrs. Voll said sternly. "Odin, sit down." The fire rushed out of Odin's blood, leaving him to meekly drop back into his chair. "Mrs. Dorr talked to their commander, and she refuses to sacrifice anybody. But the commander issued an ultimatum. Either we find this Ratatosk's core and hand it over, or we face the consequences."

"What's this Ratatosk's core, anyway?" Ander demanded. "If she has it, we can fork it over and maybe they'll go away!"

"I'm right here, you know!" Marta snapped, but her distress was obvious. "I do have Ratatosk's core. It's this jewel." She lifted up the hair covering the core on her forehead, showing it to everyone present. "It's very important. People other than the Church of Martel have tried to take it before."

"If they want it so much, get rid of it already! It can't be something worth all our lives!"

The boiling rage took hold of Odin again. "If they take the core, she'll die!" he shouted. "You can't just tell her to kill herself!" He trembled. Ander was glaring at him and privately Odin wanted nothing more to crawl into a hole and disappear, but he'd been afraid for Marta ever since learning from Tenebrae why surrendering the core was not an option and this was his worst nightmare coming to pass right in front of him.

He risked a peek at Marta, and the gratitude and awe he saw gave him a little strength.

"Enough people have died already." Ander's voice was thick with bitterness. "It's a miracle none of us are dead yet. But look at Emil!"

"Ander, stop it!" Ingrid glared at him, but laid a hand on his shoulder. "You have no right to say things like that just because Dalia…"

"I don't want to hear it, Ingrid." Ander's voice was hoarse now. "This isn't only for me. It's for all of Palmacosta. One life or a hundred. Which are you going to give up?"

"But what if you were that one life?" Odin countered. "And what if there was a way to save them all? What's the use of sacrifice then?"

"That's idiotic, to believe that. And if it were me, I'd go and turn myself in. I'd tie myself with a nice big bow if it meant I could save everyone else the pain and trouble. Anything else would be pure selfishness."

"Not everyone would be as willing to die as you are," Mr. Voll reminded him. "Maybe you've forgotten how to care for your own life, but would you say the same if I, or your mother, or Ingrid were the person in question?"

"That doesn't matter, Dad! It's not one of us, it's _her._ And if what I've heard lately is true, she and her family have—"

"_That_ has nothing to do with this. Does it?" Mr. Voll studied Marta quizzically, then his wife.

"It was brought up, but everyone's certain they want that jewel rather than Marta herself."

"What are you talking about?" Odin interrupted, confused. "What about Marta's family?"

"I never really told you before, Odin," Marta began anxiously, eyes trained on the ground. "My father is the leader of the Vanguard. I used to be a part of it, too, but I left. Daddy's changed, and so has the Vanguard. What they're doing now is so stupid!" Her expression was lost and hurt, and Odin found himself taking a step toward her, reaching a hand out towards her.

"Enough of that!" Ander cut in sourly. "We don't have time for theatrics. Are you going to let them have that jewel or not?"

"Of course not!" Odin insisted, but Marta shook her head.

"No. He's right. Maybe I have been selfish." She bowed her head, and turned to a corner of the room where Tenebrae had observed the entire display. "I'll go. Perhaps…even if they get the core, things will work out for the best somehow. I'm so sorry, everyone." She walked out to the door as everyone stared in shock, and when Odin tried to run up and stop her she shrugged off his hand. "I guess I wasted your time. Thank you for worrying about me."

"Marta, don't," he pleaded. "You don't have to do this! You can't!"

"Goodbye, Odin." Marta exited the house and shut the door behind her. It was useless trying to convince her like this, Odin realized with horror. Ander's voice had hit her too deeply, and there was no time to stop and deliberate before the Church of Martel made good on their threat.

"Odin." Tenebrae appeared behind him in his usual cloud of darkness. "Do you intend to let Lady Marta give herself up?"

Odin leaned against the door, checking to make sure nobody was within sight before answering. "No, of course not! But what do I—" He caught Tenebrae's gaze. "I…"

"I can help you forge a pact with Lord Ratatosk right now, and when the time comes I will instruct you in the basics of combat. But you must choose quickly, Odin. Should you wish to go after Lady Marta, we don't have much time."

Emil hesitated, and imagined how Marta must be doing at that moment.

_But if I'm ever in danger, you'll save me again, won't you?_

A deeper voice answered, in a low mutter engraved into Odin's memory: _Courage is the magic that turns dreams into reality._

Right now, the thing he wanted to do more than anything else was to save Marta.

_I don't care if you're not who you think you are. You're still who _I_ think you are._

"I'll do it," he agreed. "I-I want to help Marta."

"Very well." Tenebrae inclined his head toward the door. "You will want some privacy for this, unless you wish for Emil or the Voll family to stumble upon you."

"Right."

"Odin?" Emil called, his voice closer than Odin had expected. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going out!" Odin announced quickly, and before anyone could answer he ran outside, ducking into an empty space behind a house after a few minutes in an attempt to hide from anybody who tried to follow.

Tenebrae was still there with him. "Shall we get started?"

Odin closed his eyes, repeating the man's words to himself once again. _Courage is the magic that turns dreams into reality._ He had to do this, for Marta. Taking a deep breath, he nodded and answered, "Yes. Please, Tenebrae."

"Then let's begin. Odin, I command you. Unleash the power within yourself." A stream of the same cloudy dark power Odin had come to associate with Tenebrae appeared, streaming steadily to envelop him. Emil grimaced and shut his eyes as his head started to ache, clutching his head as the darkness collected around him and the pain built. "Awaken, 'Hunter of Evil!'" Tenebrae finished, and the power came to a peak. Odin felt as if he were on fire—but then the burning shifted, racing in his blood as it had when he'd tried to defend Marta inside the Volls'.

Odin opened his eyes, and he could see the world anew. The dark no longer seemed so dark, and the foreboding atmosphere had vanished. No longer was he weak, shrinking from forces greater than himself; with a little applied effort, he could _control_ those forces.

His clothing was different. Worn hand-me-downs and old loafers had been replaced by…a lot of blue and gold and black, and a sword strapped on at his back. Elegant. He had no idea where the outfit had come from, but whoever designed it had some interesting fashion sense.

Tenebrae observed him from the side. "The pact should now be complete. Odin, do you feel Lord Ratatosk's power within you?"

"Yes." His voice was deeper, Odin noted, and it was full of every bit of the confidence he felt. "Let's go, Tenebrae."

They found Marta surrounded by soldiers in the memorial near the center of Palmacosta. There was a small crowd gathered to watch, and to his irritation some of the onlookers sported self-righteous expressions, like it was a _good_ thing she was going to die for them.

"Don't you dare lay a hand on Marta!" he yelled, and everyone turned in his direction.

"Odin!" That was Emil's voice inside the crowd; of course he would have been here. "What happened to you?"

"That doesn't matter. But whoever even tries to go near Marta is going to regret it!" One hand grasped for the sword on his back, and the knights edged forward.

"Kill her now!" ordered their commander, a large man in gold armor. "First her, and then bring divine punishment upon this city of traitors!"

"Oh, no you don't!" Unsheathing the sword, Odin ran at them and in a second he was clashing with the quickest of the knights, not entirely sure what he was doing but desperate to reach Marta and get rid of them all. "Tenebrae!" he called. Secrecy was not an issue right now if he wanted to succeed in this fight, and even if anybody remembered the name later they wouldn't know who it meant.

"Right." Tenebrae hovered over them all, keeping a close eye on Odin and issuing advice where needed. Odin soon realized that trying to fight with his sword was useless right now—not enough time and too troublesome when he hardly knew how to use it—and soon settled for relying on his speed and the added strength he'd gained from Ratatosk's power to fight. He'd managed to knock out two knights and was battling another when Tenebrae snapped, "Odin! To your left!"

A glance told him there was another Martel Knight coming his way, but Odin still had the one in front of him to contend with. He gritted his teeth and prepared to attempt a last-ditch haphazard slash at his current opponent—

And then _Regal_ dropped in and sent the other knight flying with a powerful kick. "I thought this might happen, so I came as soon as I could," he explained quickly, spinning to take on another knight. "I was tending to business on the other side of the city when I received word of what was occurring here. It's despicable."

"Talk later!" Odin barked. "We have to save Marta _now!"_ Regal only nodded in agreement before delivering a final blow to knock another knight unconscious.

The crowd had retreated, none of them save Emil brave enough to try and stay near the fighting. Emil stood in the same place he'd been in when Odin first spotted him,

watching them intently. Marta was still circled by five guards who were luckily keeping their eyes on their comrades rather than trying to kill her, and she gazed at Odin with even more reverence than he'd ever seen in her before.

In the time it took Odin to battle with another three, Regal dealt with all those remaining in their way. Odin's pride stung slightly, but shook it off. Regal obviously had more experience, and his-self esteem was irrelevant. Nothing mattered now but saving Marta. The distractions done, they dashed toward the circle of knights, who were now hurriedly trying to restrain Marta enough to strike a killing blow as the two came closer and closer.

"Don't you dare! _Demon Fang!"_ Instinctively Odin sent a shockwave toward the one holding his sword high, sending him sprawling to the ground. That gave Marta enough of an opening to escape her captors' grasps with one last yank and leap back, pulling out her spinner as she did.

Odin ran up to her side, Regal right behind him. "Marta, are you okay?" he muttered.

"Odin! You…you did it, didn't you?"

"Yes. I won't let you die, Marta." He glared back at the knights, assuming a fighting stance. "And I won't hesitate to kill anyone who gets in my way!"

The knights charged, and the three of them made quick work of those before turning their attention to the commander, and when they were through with him the fight dropped abruptly out of Odin again, leaving him to survey the results. He looked down at his hands. Had he really managed _that?_

"All right," Mrs. Dorr commanded; she must have come with Regal, Emil figured. Her face was haggard: relieved, but clearly concerned about many things. "When those people start waking up, I'll find out who I have to talk to. _Don't panic, everyone._ Palmacosta will not have another Blood Purge on its hands. We'll get to the bottom of this as soon as we can."

"Mrs. Dorr's really great," Emil remarked quietly as he approached them. "Since what happened to the Governor-General things have been tough on Palmacosta. But after she came back, she just stepped up and took command, even when it was one disaster after another." He bit his lip at that. "Hey, Odin. Where were you? I have no clue where you got your clothes, or your fashion sense, but…"

Nearby Odin could hear Tenebrae grumbling. It wasn't too much to hope for an answer to give Emil, was it? "Um." Definitely time for another change of subject. "I'm sorry I ran out like that earlier."

Emil seemed skeptical, but let it drop. "We should get back home, or else Mrs. Voll will be even more worried. You still think we're still needed here?" Mrs. Dorr was still busy issuing orders, as those who had nothing to do yet talked among themselves or milled around. There were more than a few glances at Odin and Marta, which they all noted.

"It should be fine if you go home," Regal said. "There will be questions, of course. I have my own to ask, but it's late. I believe there is nothing that cannot wait to be asked in the morning."

"Let's go, then." Emil tugged on Odin's arm. "I could use some sleep about now. It's never boring with you around, is it?"

Odin nodded and followed, pretty sure that Emil's quip hadn't been quite as much of a joke as he'd intended.


End file.
